


Bad. Worse.

by MostFacinorous



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Cannibalism, Gen, Hunting, Murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-27
Updated: 2013-05-27
Packaged: 2017-12-13 03:19:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/819344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MostFacinorous/pseuds/MostFacinorous
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At some point, he came to the understanding that sometimes you have to do bad things to keep from doing worse things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad. Worse.

When he looks into her eyes, he sees his own. Sees that one day she may be just as capable of horrors as he is.

He doesn’t pretend to think he isn’t a monster. He knows very well. 

But at some point, he came to the understanding that sometimes you have to do bad things to keep from doing worse things. 

Oh, he can justify a lot of it away. Use all of them. Honor them. Let nothing go to waste. Then it isn’t murder—it’s survival. 

But why are they all the same? Same height, same build, same hair? Because sometimes he needs to do something bad, to keep from doing something worse. 

His eyes, identical to hers, often linger on her hair, the way she holds her shoulders, the way she lifts her chin to face a challenge. Killing her would be worse. So much worse. 

Their eyes are different, though. Dark brown. Scared deer eyes, not smart hunter eyes. Not her eyes. He does it on purpose. He avoids meeting her eyes, now, because sometimes he thinks she knows.

She does know. He can see it in the way she stiffens when he hugs her. He can almost smell the fear on her. Not really. But he thinks he can, which is almost the same thing. But she’s made of sterner stuff. She’s stubborn. She doesn’t avoid him. 

He teaches her to hunt with him, to talk to the girls and charm them. She knows what he does to them. And when she starts having the nightmares, the ones he’s long since come to terms with, she comes to him and begs him to kill the stag that follows her deep into the well of her guilty conscience. 

He takes her out hunting, not girls, this time, not a stag made of death, but deer. The kind you get a license for, the kind where you can shoot them, can be loud. 

He’s reckless, though. He knows what you’re supposed to wear during deer season. Knows that deer can’t see bright orange, but that other hunters can. He’s no fool. He knows how to be safe. They went over it in the classes he had to take to get his hunting license. 

He buys her a camo vest. It is in shades of brown and green. No other hunters will see her, and with her dark hair and pale skin, she is a walking safety hazard, blending in with tree bark and shadows. 

He doesn’t actually hope she is shot by accident. But he doesn’t hope she isn’t, either. She is his worse thing. His stag. He wouldn't have to fight against doing worse if the temptation was removed. 

He shows her how to take down the deer, explains how to honor it.  
He wants to teach her that, sometimes, you have to do something bad, to keep from doing something worse. They have different sliding scales that they operate on, but the premise is the same.

Deer are bad, other girls are bad. Don’t kill your daughter. Don’t kill your conscience. 

It’s good bonding for the two of them, he thinks. She doesn’t ever agree, vocally, but she doesn’t disagree, either.  
Her mother need never know. 

That would be bad.  
He has no idea what the worse is, in that situation, until one day, the phone rings.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at MostFacinorous.tumblr.com!


End file.
